


Clearing the Air

by Rowaine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sirius' death, Harry confronts his professor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clearing the Air

Title: Clearing the Air

Author: Rowaine

Rating: PG-13, mainly for language

Pairing: Harry and Severus, but not really slash

Disclaimer: Ain't mine, never was. The incredible Ms JKR holds a special reserved table in Valhalla for her story, characters, world, and just cus she's speshool.

Summary: After Sirius' death, Harry confronts his professor.

Notes: Yep, it finally happened. My kids allowed me to borrow their copy of OoTP, and this plot bunny refused to wait till 'Love or not' is finished. Oh well, I figure you'll forgive me. If not, don't let the door hit ya in the ass *smooch*

~*~*~

Wild black hair and blazing green eyes. A slim Seeker's body. Wire-rimmed spectacles with yet another small crack in the lens. Racing through the corridors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, neither student nor staff would fail to recognize the Boy Who Lived. They could not miss the fire in his glare, striding down the lower halls toward the dungeons. Every warm body he passed quickly moved out of the way with one flash of his deathly green eyes.

The first afternoon of classes was finally over. Once again, Gryffindor and Slytherin shared most of their primary course times -- a situation that most felt was to encourage them to either get along better or to kill each other off. Whichever worked.

The summer holidays after his fifth year had left Harry with way too much time to think over the previous year's happenings. More death and destruction hung over his head. Logically, he knew he could not be to blame for his godfather's death... But logic and emotions were hardly related topics, and deep inside, he felt responsible.

He also felt that such responsibility should be shared with the one man who could have prevented him from stepping into that final trap. Severus Snape.

~*~*~

Weary to the bone, the Potions Master slumped into his favorite chair in his office. Piles upon piles of summer homework lay strewn about his desk, awaiting his crimson ink. He chose to ignore them for the moment, allowing a short break from his duties to stare off into space.

So much had happened in the past year. Severus had always known that one day he would resume his spying activities. The Dark Lord's defeat by that Potter brat would not prevent his return to power. A simple delaying tactic, which provided the wizarding world a respite, but made them much less likely to see the truth when it slapped them in the face.

And now he must deal with one more burden. Facing that damnedable Gryffindor and his righteous indignation. How dare the miserable whelp? After all the sacrifices made for his behalf, Harry Bloody Potter felt put- upon once more. Very privately, Snape agreed with the boy -- he had been lied to, shielded from the truth, for so long that his faith in Albus Dumbledore was shaken to the core. Severus understood such sentiments all too well, and could sympathize with them. If he wanted to. Which he most certainly did not.

From the corridor outside his office, the professor heard rapid footsteps approaching. He silently hoped that whomever was in such a hurry would pass by, leaving him to his thoughts for the moment.

Another pipe dream shot to hell. The very object of his depressive thoughts burst through his office door, without a simple knock of courtesy.

~*~*~

"Snape. We need to talk." After a summer of relative peace at his relatives' house, Harry had managed to put on some much-needed weight and a few extra inches of height. He was still small in comparison to his classmates, but he looked less like a poster child for starving countries now.

"Mr. Potter, has your excitement in returning to school this year caused a malfunction somewhere in your brain? I seem to recall that some small measure of courtesy is required when entering a teacher's office," his voice weary and soft, Severus barely spared the energy to look at his student. He could hear the crackle of suppressed magical fury, and prayed for the patience to ward it off.

"To hell with courtesy! SIRIUS IS DEAD! And it's my fault for walking into that trap. But it's your fault too, you greasy bastard. For cancelling those thought control lessons over a stupid mistake. I am not my father, Snape. You have spent the past five years judging me, expecting me to act just like him. I'm not my godfather either, or anyone else. I'm me, just Harry, and you never gave me a chance!"

Small pieces of paper fluttered around the room, caught in some windstorm that he could not feel. Carefully monitoring his tone of voice, Severus offered his student a seat. "Please, sit down. Let me shut the door to prevent interruptions, as I'm sure you do not wish any random Slytherin to hear your woes."

Harry ignored the proffered chair, but stepped aside to permit his teacher's movements. He watched every move the older wizard made, casting wards and silencing spells on the door, making certain it was securely locked shut. When Snape returned to his chair, Harry followed suit.

"Potter, your accusations alone are enough for me to see you expelled. However, I... understand your grief. If you feel the need to vent frustrations on such a convenient target, I am willing to permit the explosion. Provided that you refrain from destroying my inventory of delicate ingredients. Is this an acceptable exchange to you?"

Slightly thrown off by the reasonable request, Harry stared at his instructor.

"While you are trying to locate your voice, would you permit me the opportunity to speak in my own defense?"

A simple nod.

"Very well. No, you are not your father. That much was clear after one week with you in my class. You were ignorant and meek, almost as bad as Longbottom, but you never failed to attempt your own work. James Potter made a habit of shivving out of classwork assignments whenever possible, and neglecting his homework almost as often. At least, until your mother took him to task for it in their sixth year."

Harry's small gasp broke the monotone quality of Snape's speech, causing the man to meet his eyes for the first time.

"Yes, I knew your mother too. Lily Evans was a very bright young woman, brilliant really. She had a fiery temper, and would stand up against any odds whenever she saw someone being mistreated. At the time, I could not appreciate her efforts... They made me appear weak in front of my Housemates. And yet I always felt warm after such confrontations. In many ways, you are more like your mother in this respect."

This caught the young Gryffindor's full attention. Emerald eyes blinked back moisture, and Harry gave another nod, hoping to continue his professor's monologue.

"Mr. Potter, you are aware of my tremulous position in this war. I'm sure that means little to you at this point, but hear me out. As Head of Slytherin, as a spy in the Dark Lord's ranks, and as a confidante to several influential Dark wizards not currently committed to the Death Eaters, I must often play roles which are distasteful. My treatment of the wizarding world's savior is mandatory for a convincing performance."

"But.. why not just tell me that? What good does it do to make me hate you so much?"

A deep sigh. "You are sixteen years old now, Potter. Harry. The ravages of war have begun to affect your life more directly than most, and you have matured beyond your classmates. But at age eleven, could you have convincingly portrayed the necessary anger and hatred toward me, had you known the truth?"

"Er, probably not. But last year would have been the perfect time to tell me! I knew about the Order, and that they were getting most of their information from your spying. Knowing that would have made it easier to work together with that mind spell stuff."

"Would it? I have wondered... You have an odd balance of personality traits, Harry. The courage, bravery and loyalty of Gryffindor, tempered with cunning, ambition and the thirst for revenge more commonly seen in Slytherin. Separate, either set of characteristics would be of no worry to me. As a combination, in one adolescent wizard with a bond to the Dark Lord himself... Can you not see where it could be dangerous? Such mental spells require teacher and student to bare their souls to one another."

"Gods! Now you make it sound like I could be the next Voldemort. What am I supposed to do? Just sit back and take it, suck up all the crap people say about me?"

"Perhaps. That is not what I mean, Harry." Severus paused for breath, deciding on a different tactic. "When you stormed into my office, the expression on your face resembled another angry wizard I once knew. Full of fire and hatred, convinced he had been mistreated by his peers. And please, don't look so shocked. I am not comparing you to Tom Riddle."

"Then... who?"

"Myself. Once upon a time. The way Potter and Black behaved toward me was not uncommon. Granted that they began the sport, but soon enough I was the target for almost every prankster in school. Dumbledore tried to speak with me a number of times, force me to expel my animosity, but it always failed. Sometime in my seventh year, I was approached by an old Housemate... Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, was a few years older. I remembered him, of course, but hardly knew him. Lucius was quite excited about a new group he had joined, led by the most intelligent, charismatic man. They were going to change the world, rid our dwindling community of the taint that plagued it. His explanations tantalized me, drawing me in... I allowed myself to be Marked without thorough investigation, so strong was my anger at that point."

"But sir, there's no way I would join the scum that killed my parents. All these things people think I've got in common with Voldemort... It doesn't make me Dark or evil, just pissed off."

"Anger is a very powerful tool, Harry. It can be used to warp our mind such that we truly believe we are doing no wrong. I can look back over my school years and see that happening in my own actions, as well as your father and godfather. No, you are most definitely not James Potter, but somewhere inside is the ability to become that thoughtlessly cruel. I apologize, if that sounds harsh. He eventually outgrew the worst of his mean mischief, but the boy I knew would stop at nothing to humiliate and hurt anyone for his own amusement."

Harry's wince stopped the flow of words. Looking at his student, Severus felt a jolt of pain.

"Yes, in many ways, your father reminds me of Draco Malfoy. Except that young Draco has no Lily Evans to save him from himself. Harry... It is rare that I ever offer apologies, especially to students. But perhaps you would accept mine now, for not allowing you the opportunity to prove yourself different than your father?"

"Er, hold on. Give me a chance to think about how you worded that. Accept your apology, for not giving me time to show that I'm not my dad? Um, that doesn't sound like much of an apology, Professor. After all, he's dead and I'm not. That should have given you a clue, right? Not only that, but how often have you seen me taunt and torture anyone in school, other than your Slytherins, and only when they start it."

"Stipulated. But had I the chance to witness this prior to our first meeting?"

"You've had five years! Hell, all you had to do was pull me aside during any one of my many detentions and try to discuss this. I know almost nothing about my parents, other than what Remus and Sirius and Hagrid have said. Even your sarcasm would have been better than nothing."

Another sigh. "And for that, I should offer another apology. Try not to make this a habit, Mr. Potter. I did not know your father, other than his methods of humiliation. Nor Black, whose sense of humor was as dark as his name. Lily was often found in the library or potions labs, studying with whomever else was present. We spent many pleasant hours working on Transfigurations and Charms together for our OWLs. She was... upset with me, when I refused to join her for NEWTs preparation."

"Yeah, by then you weren't supposed to be associated with Muggle-borns, huh?"

"Exactly. She tried our entire seventh year to speak with me. I remember that Easter holiday, almost everyone else had gone home but she and I, and a handful of first years. Your mother was excellent at Charms, perhaps the best Hogwarts has seen since Flitwick's school years. She caught me in the library and glued me to a chair until I agreed to explain my behavior. Her reaction was expected, and not terribly pleasant."

A low chuckle broke the speech, causing a shocked Harry Potter to drop his jaw on the floor.

"She cussed, cursed, hexed, and screamed like a banshee. I had already admitted to myself what a foolish mistake it was, joining the Dark Lord's band of miscreants. Lily berated me soundly for over an hour, before marching me straight to Dumbledore's office. I expected him to toss me to the Dementors, but he simply listened, sympathizing with my intentions and goals, laughing at Lily's temper fit. And then he offered me a job."

"You went straight from graduating to teaching?!"

Another round of soft laughter. "Not exactly. He recruited me into the Order, and asked me to spy for him. He also made arrangements for my Apprenticeship with a Potions Master of his acquaintance, which kept me safe from the more bloody of the Dark Lord's revels. Two years after graduation, I became the youngest professor on staff, and still am."

"Wow. Sounds like you were rooked."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you can't stand teaching. Or at least, you can't stand the students. And answering that maniac's call hurts a lot, I know. The only things good you got out of the deal were keeping out of Azkaban and getting a free course in potion-making. After a dozen years here, it sounds like you paid your debt plus some."

"Now you definitely sound like your mother. She was shrewd enough to rival any Slytherin. Merlin, I miss that woman."

"Yeah, me too."

"Why Mr. Potter, did you make a joke at your hated potions professor?"

"Eh, maybe. Depends. Is the greasy git nearby, and has his sense of humor been blown apart by twelve years worth of exploding cauldrons?"

"Perhaps we should approach this more logically. Harry, my name is Severus. It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

"Yeah, nice to meet you too, Sev. Do you mind if I call you that, when it's just us?"

"Only if my wards are up. Salazar help you if any of my House were to sense any familiarity between us."

"Naturally. Could I... "

"Incomplete thoughts, Harry."

"Would you teach me again? I promise not to fall into your pensieve anymore."

"One trip into my memories is enough for anyone, eh?"

"Well yeah, but I'd rather not be any more angry at my dad, even if he was just a kid at the time."

"..."

"Y'know, Malfoy did the same thing to Neville in first year. Not the same spells, but... it took us awhile to get Nev to talk about it without crying. I hate bullies!"

"Be careful, Potter. I may begin to like you."

"Nah, no fear there. And my name is Harry, remember?"

"Of course. Well *Harry*, what shall we talk about next?"

~*~*~

Their routine resembled a modern dance, never falling on the same days or times. Yet every meeting strengthened the bond of friendship between the two black-haired wizards, growing steadily into respect. There were, naturally, differences of opinion -- many times Harry was seen leaving his 'detention' with green goo flowing off his robes, a scowl on his face, and Severus was likely the recipient of the other half of whatever vile concoction coated his student's garments.

Harry's control of his thoughts progressed quickly with the honest support of his instructor. By Yule, he had even begun to study the other side of that magical ability. His 'Christmas gift' to Voldemort consisted of a series of dreams depicting the Dark Lord on a Muggle stage, dressed in pink tights and a tutu. Severus reported his former master's reactions to each false vision as being 'maliciously comical, if you could ignore the Crutacius long enough to laugh.'

An informal series of exams from his instructor and the headmaster were held in April, with Harry showing remarkable talent in the study of mind spells. He was ordered not to use his abilities against his fellow students, but only after being told that one incident would be overlooked -- that night, Harry sent a dream to a certain silvery-blond Slytherin, showing all of his prized hair turning Gryffindor red before falling out.

Severus heard the boy's complaints the following morning, and sent him to Madam Pomfrey for a calming potion. As soon as the door closed, Harry came out from under his invisibility cloak and they shared a long laugh.


End file.
